What Happens Next?
by Flourish-and-Blott
Summary: This is the story of what comes after the Second Wizarding War against Lord Voldemort starting from the very last words spoken by Harry in the Deathly Hallows.
1. Home Sweet Home

**What Happens Next?**

** Chapter One: Home Sweet Home **

"Quite honestly, I've had enough trouble for a lifetime," Harry said the words with a firm resolution.

Turning, he led the way out of the headmaster's study. With one hand on the door, he glanced back at the portrait of Albus Dumbledore to briefly exclaim,

"Forgive me, Professor, but I'm just going to disturb your tomb one last time. Then, you can finally rest peacefully there!"

"Not a problem, my dear boy!" replied the portrait, still smiling affectionately at the three of them.

Grinning back, Harry turned to the other two, "Coming? One last time."

"Course, wouldn't have it any other way!" Ron replied.

The three of them made their way out of the office and onto the moving stairway. Traipsing slowly through the battle torn castle, succumbing gradually by the leaden sensations of both tiredness and loss, but breathing in the heady scent of victory which acted as a much-needed stimulant. Passing the stone gargoyle at the bottom of the staircase, Harry resumed the conversation arm-in-arm with his two best friends. People were starting to mill around the grounds now, but the vast majority were seemingly still recovering in the Great Hall. The injured were being collected and taken up to the Infirmary after first being seen to in the hall by Madam Pomfrey.

"Of course, you know what this means?" Harry asked the other two.

"What's that?" Ron and Hermione enquired.

"Well, I wouldn't be surprised if you two are going to be as famous as me any time soon. That's if you're not already!"

"A life of blissful anonymity is out of the question then?" beseeched Hermione, slightly amused.

"Not unless you decide otherwise. But, you know, people are going to be asking us a lot of questions about our little adventure and how we did it. Found out the way to finally rid ourselves of Voldemort." It was tremendous to finally say the name without fear.

"'Spect so," confirmed Ron. "But if that's the price of victory…hey, d'you reckon they'll put us on the Chocolate Frog cards. 'Cos if so, I reckon I could put up with a bit of fame then."

The other two laughed heartily at that.

"Maybe," Harry replied, "but I just wanted to let you two know that I wouldn't have been able to do any of it without you both." Now Harry stopped to look at them properly. They had reached as far as the vegetable patch. He placed a hand on Ron's shoulder and touched Hermione's face affectionately. "I would _never_ have got through it all. Would have died several times if you hadn't been there to save my skin. It's only right they recognize your part in the victory. So, if a bit of fame comes your way, it's just reward."

Both beaming at him, Hermione's eyes were glistening with tears.

"Don't mention it, mate! Glad we could help." Ron beamed widely.

"The power the Dark Lord knows not," Harry continued. "Part of the prophecy that I reckon meant you two. The power of friends, the power of love. Dumbledore did teach me something about the incalculable power of certain acts. My mother's sacrifice… your choice to accompany me on the quest to destroy Horcruxes. Ever wondered how I can cast such a strong Patronus? It's because I usually think of you two before doing it; that's the power of Ron and Hermione."

They started to walk again down towards the lake where the Giant Squid had seemingly put in a tentative appearance.

"You chose to come with me when you could have stayed behind, stayed safe (as I would have preferred). But you didn't. You came. I can't tell you how much that means to me. It puts you on the same pedestal as my mother's sacrifice in my eyes, and that is pretty high. Thank-you!"

Choked with emotion, Harry couldn't go on. Hermione was crying silently now as Ron spoke,

"Steady mate, don't want to overdo it!"

Laughing shakily, and before they knew it Harry had grabbed them into a warm embrace taking comfort in the arms of his closest friends. They had been through so much together since facing that mountain troll in their first year and knew very firmly that there was now an unshakeable bond between the three of them that could never be broken. Harry loved them both, but somehow didn't quite know how to say it. It didn't matter, however, as they seemed to understand. That's how it was between friends such as this. An unbreakable bond of fellowship, something Lord Voldemort had never appreciated nor ever understood. Finally, after who knew how long, they broke apart but Harry kept his arms wrapped around their shoulders. Hermione's arms round his waist and Ron's around his shoulders. The grounds were still quiet, but not unsettlingly so. It was the calm after the storm, a peaceful tranquillity. The sort that can induce contentedness, but for the irrepressible feeling of grief and loss. The sun was still rising, glistening the waters of the lake as it came into view.

The white marble tomb shimmered in the morning sunlight. Harry knew now that, though he may be gone, Albus Dumbledore was happy and at peace and he was about to do the very thing he knew was right. To lay the Elder Wand to rest with its last true master, the master who even in death continued to fight evil and conquer Lord Voldemort. It was his plan and his mission that illuminated Harry's path to ensure not only the final victory but also Harry's eventual survival. The doubts and misgivings that had plagued Harry Potter in recent months about his late mentor were dispelled. Everything was now clear.

Harry parted from the other two to approach the beautiful tomb. Like Dobby's grave, it could hardly have been a more idyllic location now that he saw it in the dawn sunlight and without the grief brought on by the funeral. Harry slipped open the lid of the tomb slightly so that only a glint of white wrappings were visible and placed the wand in his hand. He had no real desire to look at the body longer than he had to, and as the wand emitted bright golden sparks at its return to its last master (even though he was deceased), he slipped the tomb closed again before uttering "Reparo" to undo Voldemort's damage of some nights ago. There was still a slight seam where it had been broken open, but Harry knew that McGonagall could do it better. He turned back to Ron and Hermione, who had been holding hands as they watched him putting the wand back.

"Now, I think I've got to get some rest before I fall down right here. How about you?"

"Yeah, I think we'll be joining you up in the dormitories, mate, but I'll just see the family first. Let them know." Ron answered first.

"Sure. I'd like to see them too later. Let them know I'm thinking about them, won't you?" Suddenly, the loss of Fred pierced Harry like a shard of ice again. "Hermione, have you still got the trinkets that were the Horcruxes?"

"Yes, they're still in my bag." Hermione said.

"Good, because I think we should give them back to the school. I don't know whether they'll be able to repair the damage, but we can explain everything to the teachers. At least they can be returned to where they belong. Can you two do it with me, though? We can finally fill in the rest of the Order about what we were actually doing on our year out. What do you say?"

"Course we will, Harry!" Hermione replied.

"We'll be there!" Ron said.

"Thanks again! I'll see you when I wake up…in about a week!"

"Sleep well!" They exclaimed. "You've earned it!"

There was such tenderness in this last remark; it took Harry's breath away momentarily.

Harry trundled back up to Gryffindor Tower, as Ron and Hermione walked together into the Great Hall. He watched them as long as he could with their arms wrapped around each other's shoulders. He didn't think he could ever be parted from them. Their company had been an inexpressible comfort through those hard times to sustain him on that long and winding road. Sure they had argued, but their friendship was strong enough to survive such petty quarrels. Harry finally understood (if he hadn't until now) just how much richer his life had been and will always be for knowing Ron and Hermione. Walking drowsily up through the rubble and blood-spattered corridors, he vaguely made out the shouts of greetings and salutations from voices of people he could not make out. He waved a weary hand in acknowledgement but his thoughts were solely focused upon the four-poster bed in Gryffindor Tower. Finally, he reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, who smiled broadly at him allowing him to enter without a password before flopping, fully-clothed, into bed. Having removed his trademark specs and outdoor cloak, he was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, but not before he had thought of Ginny and the future they could now share together.


	2. Reconstruction

**What Happens Next?**

**Chapter Two: Reconstruction**

Kingsley Shacklebolt rose unsteadily to his feet having been badly concussed by Voldemort's curse. The scene that he witnessed before him both elated and terrified this most experienced of Aurors. Harry Potter was alive; the talisman in the war against Voldemort had lived to fight on but was involved in a frightening one-on-one confrontation with the feared murderer. Surely, the 'Boy who Lived' had run out of lives this time. A shiver ran down his back at the scene, no small event for an Auror that had seen so much in his career. Apparently the rest of the crowd felt it too because for all the people in the hall – the villagers of Hogsmeade, teachers, students, centaurs and house-elves – nobody was making a sound but for the duellers in the middle. The watching crowd was silent, transfixed and scared. The second war against Voldemort had come down to this moment: a final meeting between the dark wizard and the boy who had given him his greatest loss. Their voices echoed through the Great Hall up to the enchanted ceiling. Voldemort - deranged and unhinged - and Harry sounded remarkably brave and almost confident. Then it happened. It shouldn't have been a surprise because you could see the curse building. Voldemort struck. But Harry was too quick for him this time. Later it would seem incredible that a simple Disarming Charm could have finally deflected the killing curse Voldemort was so ruthlessly adept at casting. It could almost be said that the end was poetic justice for the wizard who had killed so many times. Though, there was barely any time to register what had happened before it broke. The wave of euphoria and celebration swept around the crowd and everybody wanted to touch and shake hands with the boy who had finally delivered the victory we had all craved for so long. Most of the Order of the Phoenix was present next to Hogwarts' very own Dumbledore's Army, but inevitably the happiness was also tainted by the loss of so many friends and warriors. But we would honour them like no others before. Those heroes will be buried with full honours in due course and the wizarding world will know of their sacrifice. Kingsley's thoughts strayed to his colleague Nymphadora (oh, how she hated that name!) Tonks, recently a young mother and a favourite of all those at the Ministry. His eyes sparkled with tears. But there would be a time to mourn for now there was work to be done. As the most senior Auror left, Kingsley Shacklebolt began to assume control. First he sought out Professor McGonagall amongst the throng of victors.

"Minerva, I'm going to have to get to the Ministry. They'll be much to do. Can you organize things here at the school? I assume you shall be headmistress now since Professor Snape has passed away."

"Yes, of course," replied Professor McGonagall.

"I shall return before long when we can speak further."

With that, he was gone disapparating to London in a trice from beyond the school boundaries. As the morning wore on and Harry Potter dreamt peacefully in his bed at the top of Gryffindor tower, the signs of his victory were appearing from all quarters. Unusually, flocks of owls were seen flying through the daylight delivering the news to the scarcely believing and puzzling muggles everywhere. Oddly-dressed people in cloaks were out with increasing frequency to share the news with strangers to revel in the victory. It would have perplexed the Ministry to have so stretched the International Statute of Secrecy, but on this occasion it was inclined to be lenient. Even within the grounds of Hogwarts castle, the signs of change were beginning to be seen. The changing mood meant that the Dementors were keeping their distance. Stan Shunpike and Pius Thicknesse were emerging from the Imperius Curse along with hundreds more, confused and with little memory of the last few months. The surviving Death Eaters were being rounded up – the Carrows, Fenrir Greyback, Walden Macnair and the rest – unlikely ever to see freedom again. Whilst the Malfoys huddled together in search of comfort, defeated and broken, wondering what would happen to them now. Meanwhile, McGonagall was attempting to start to rebuild the school. Madam Pomfrey was being assisted by a coterie of helpers with the injured as the fallen lay peacefully in a quiet chamber. Voldemort's shrunken corpse was removed elsewhere. Having provided breakfast, the houseelves had set about the biggest challenge they had ever faced in the castle: to repair and to clean. Yet in the glow of victory, they relished the opportunity to serve even more. Meanwhile, most of the survivors would join Harry in getting some rest later that day. Lucky then that most were still wearing pyjamas. Exams would be postponed. McGonagall had decided that parents could take their children home if they desired, but those wanting to remain behind to help with the rebuilding program could do so if they wished too. The new headmistress had never been so proud to have been associated with Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The student body had served valiantly and with honour, and she was as determined as the new minister that the fallen heroes would be recognized with distinction at the school in some way. The arrival of Xenophilius Lovegood late-morning in search of his daughter Luna signalled the release of the innocent from Azkaban, who had been unjustly imprisoned under the corrupt previous regime. Several large, majestic owls trudged towards the school with a stack of newspapers, the late morning edition of the Daily Prophet, officially proclaiming the news that everybody wanted to hear. The souvenir copies were a gift from the Ministry. The headline read:

**Battle**** of Hogwarts: Harry Potter Defeats Lord Voldemort**

The mere mention of the dark wizard's name was enough to confirm the truth. Underneath the article began,

"Last night witnessed the greatest challenge to the domain of the dark wizard who styled himself Lord Voldemort. An assembled alliance of Hogwarts students, Order of the Phoenix members and every magical race and creature you could name fought the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters. At the helm was the symbol of the resistance, Harry Potter, who had emerged into the open after months in hiding. From Potter's daring raid on the wizarding bank of Gringotts twelve hours previously to the final capitulation of the dark wizard, it was undoubtedly his and our longest day…"

The whole paper seemed to be devoted to the previous night's fighting.

Pages 2-6: The events of last night

Pages 6-10: Potter's final challenge to the Dark Lord.

Pages 10-12: Profile of Harry Potter's accomplices – Mr. Ronald Weasley & Miss. Hermione Granger

Pages 13-18: Biography of the Boy who lived

Pages 18-24: What happens now?

Pages 25-28: Quotes and obituaries.

It must be big news, because there was no mention of Quidditch anywhere in this edition. The newspaper was snapped up by all and sundry and every inch scoured for information through the morning. With so much happening and so many digesting the news, it is almost hard to believe that the three at the heart of it all were fast asleep in the damaged dormitories of Gryffindor house.

In the meantime, at the Ministry, Kingsley Shacklebolt was seeking to restore order. A meeting of the varied heads of department confirmed the erstwhile Auror as temporary Minister of Magic. The outward displays of the tyranny were removed, most especially the hideous statue in the atrium. The first and most pressing concern was to release the innocent from Azkaban prison and give back the wands of muggle-born witches and wizards. The new era was underpinned by the release from the Ministry's employ of the Dementors. Dumbledore had never liked them, and neither did the new leadership. From henceforth they would find new ways to maintain law and order inside and out of prison. Yet the greatest effect of the change was that witches and wizards had accorded a new understanding with other magical races. The house-elves, the goblins, the centaurs and the giants would never again be forced into subservience or persecuted to the point of extinction. They had earned the right to sit as equals for their part in the fighting, never again to be expected to look in adoration of their wizarding kin. The effects of change were dramatic and immediate, but it may take a little longer to change attitudes completely. To underline this new doctrine, the Ministry sought to make an example of one of its most senior staffers to demonstrate that nobody was above the law. The arrest and later imprisonment of Dolores Jane Umbridge on charges of being complicit in the persecution and torture of Muggle-born witches and wizards was one case that was closely reported at every stage. She had previously worked as Senior Undersecretary to the Minister and would spend at least twelve years in Azkaban without parole. By contrast, Harry's late godfather, Sirius Black, was further pardoned posthumously and his record expunged of the allegations made against him. As was Professor Severus Snape who, with evidence provided by Harry's testimony, was cleared of murder and awarded posthumously for outstanding bravery in his work for the Order of the Phoenix. It was decided that Dumbledore's death was instead to be classified as a mercy killing. As for the rest of their deceased colleagues who had fought in the Order of the Phoenix, the decision was reached in collaboration between the new minister, the new headmistress of Hogwarts and Harry Potter that their bodies would be buried in a new underground crypt to be built on the grounds beneath a memorial dedicated to them. Their names noted and their contribution observed. The fallen also included Augusta Longbottom, Neville's grandmother, who was last seen protecting and shielding several young students. However, the comrades-in-arms who had served in the Order of the Phoenix(but who had died before the final battle at Hogwarts) would also be recognized with a memorial wall at the crypt as well as at the Ministry of Magic. Their names embossed in gold upon black marble stone. It would sit proudly at the front of the school so that every new generation of student to come would immediately remember the dedication of their lives "for the greater good."

The inscription would read on a plinth underneath the ornate lifelike granite figures of a phoenix and a winged boar in flight:

In Memoriam

The assembled members of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry and the Order of the Phoenix, who gave their lives in service to building a brighter future,

When darkness did surround they shone as a beacon

"Where your treasure lies may your heart be also"

The Battle of Hogwarts School

May 1998

Lord Voldemort, however, was not to be so fortunate. At precisely midday after the conclusion of the battle (when the sun was at its height in the sky in mocking salute), the corpse of Tom Marvolo Riddle was lifted out by enchantments (nobody wanted to touch him) into the grounds where a funeral pyre had been built by Hagrid with wood from the forbidden forest. His body was laid on top where it was to burn for twelve hours unto ashes and dust. A neat and finite end to the villain, this sealed the final victory.


	3. Returning Heroes

What Happens Next?

**Chapter Three: Returning Heroes**

Harry Potter awoke early the following dawn, refreshed and well-rested. He had been asleep for over eighteen hours. At last his dreams were peaceful and undisturbed. Then suddenly he realized he was not where he had fallen asleep. Someone had tucked him snugly under the quilt and carefully changed him into his night-clothes. Who could have been so thoughtful? He would surely have woken up if Ron or Hermione had attempted it, then he remembered that house-elves are adept at stealth. Smiling slightly to himself, he pulled back the hangings around his bed. To his pleasant surprise, Harry saw two figures breathing deeply in the beds on the opposite side of the dorm room. Otherwise the room was empty but for Ron and Hermione. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that it was still dark except for the glow of the sun rising along the horizon. Grabbing Fabian Prewett's old pocket watch from the bedside table told him the time had just gone 0500. Sure he was not tired anymore; he swung his legs out of bed. He was taken aback at what he was wearing but pleased nonetheless. He had been sleeping in scarlet and gold pyjamas adorned with the Gryffindor crest. Moreover, they were unnaturally warm and cosy as if they had been magicked that way. His rucksack had been placed at the foot of his bed and his Invisibility Cloak stood upon a bedpost. To further fuel his astonishment and gratitude, Harry also found some freshly laundered robes folded neatly beside him. Moving soundlessly, Harry picked up the robes and his toiletries because he was suddenly quite keen for a long soak in the bath. He couldn't remember the last time he had been clean, properly washed in warm water. The simple pleasure of a bath had been such a luxury in its scarcity. Removing his invisibility cloak, he exited the dormitory. Silently and unseen, Harry stepped into the common room. Few windows had remained unsmashed and great chunks had been taken out of the walls. It pained him to see his house damaged in this way, but the most delightful and yet astonishing sight was from the dozens of people lying in camp-beds across the floor of the Gryffindor common room. Parents and students remaining together in victory, the sight further warmed the cockles of his heart. Over in a corner, he caught sight of Neville, Dean and Seamus. They must have slept downstairs because they didn't want to disturb their conquering hero, whilst Ron and Hermione didn't want to be parted from him or each other. Emotion and pride swelled in him at the selflessness of the gesture. Harry had never before felt so palpably content fuelled by a genuine love for all his allies and fellow warriors. He slipped out of the portrait hole and into the rest of the school.

Lamps still flickered in the corridors, but Harry had never before seen the school so tranquil and serene like the morning after the storm had passed. He thought he could make out the distant scurrying of elves, but that was the only sound. He directed his feet in the direction of the prefects' bathroom on the seventh floor. He was afterall entitled as Quidditch captain. Though the signs of the battle were still present in rubble and smashed glass, he thought the castle was slowly mending back to normal. The corridors were no longer splattered in blood and the place was looking incredibly tidy. The Fat Friar, ghost of Hufflepuff house, glided out of a wall to Harry's right humming a cheerful little ditty to himself but appeared not to notice him. At last he reached the bathroom. Afterall, he must look and smell terrible.

"Want to use the bathroom, young Master Potter?" The portrait of a stately-looking knight with a white palomino stallion asked him.

"Yes, please. Do you think you can let me in? I don't know the password," Harry answered.

"For you, of course. Quite the impressive victory you've had, I should ask for tips and me a knight too! By the way, password is 'Lagoon.'" And the portrait swung forward. As it closed again, Harry for good measure murmured "Colloportus!" with his wand to ensure he wouldn't be disturbed.

The golden mermaid was asleep on the side of the deep bath. Now was a time to collect his thoughts for he knew today would be long. Turning the taps on and running vibrantly coloured foam into the vast tub flooded back memories of the Triwizard Tournament in his fourth year and the golden egg. How he had never meant to enter that contest, and with a jolt, remembering how even that occasion had been tainted by the stain of tragedy. Whereas he should have enjoyed grabbing the Cup with fellow Hogwarts champion, Hufflepuff Cedric Diggory, it later transpired that Lord Voldemort had used servants to rig the outcome so that he could use Harry to regain a body. It was the first time Harry had witnessed murder at first hand, the reason he could now see thestrals. Of course he couldn't remember his parents' deaths, only a lot of green light. Immersed in thoughts about this terrible tragedy, he almost didn't realize the water was now close to over-flowing. He quickly turned the taps off again. The bathroom was now pleasantly steaming perfumed by the bath foam. Harry was already feeling pampered. The mermaid was still feigning sleep as he slipped out of his pyjamas and plunged deep into the bubbly abyss. Immediately the warm water massaged and soothed all his senses. The relief was extraordinary…the aches, the pain seemed to be washing from his battle-hardened body. Treading water with his feet, the soothing relief crystallized his thoughts. His mind was still whirring. Cedric's untimely demise was the first encounter Harry had truly had of what Tom Riddle had been capable. He had only escaped that time by sheer luck, a fluke of wandlore. But it wasn't always about fighting like that: directly against your nemesis. Harry had had to put up with a lot at school: rumours, gossip (and some of it quite nasty), suspicion as well as constant attempts on his life. Quirrell tampering with his broom as he played Quidditch; Slytherin's basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets (his arm throbbed at the memory of the fangs); murderous Acromantulae in the forest…and all because Voldemort chose to believe the words of a prophecy. From the moment his home in Godric's Hollow was attacked when he was aged one, his path had been lit converging towards the moment he would meet Tom Riddle one last time. And, at last, he had done and survived. Dumbledore had explained that it was Riddle's fault for hand-picking Harry as the one to defeat him, and he was bound to try to take Voldemort down in the end. Not because of the prophecy, but because he would do anything to stop the killing and deaths of all those who he loved, of all those who had fought beside him attempting to protect him and help him. Perhaps the key difference then with Voldemort was that Harry no longer feared death. Sure, he respected it. But not feared. He had lost so many people who had vowed to help him, that he was strangely comforted by the thought of seeing them again someday. Whereas, Voldemort tried everything to evade what must be inevitable. Perhaps that was the advantage of being the possessor of the third hallow: to meet death at a time of _your_ choosing and on _your own_ terms. He, Harry, had come back because there was still work to be done and still so much to live for. So what about Tonks and Lupin, who would now never see their son grow up? Or Sirius, who would never have the chance to have a family of his own who loved him? Or Fred Weasley? Was that fair that only Harry would have a second chance? Perhaps they understood what they were signing up for and knew that dying was far from the worst thing that could happen to them. Yet that still wasn't the point! Why should all these **Heroes** (and he could never emphasize the word enough!) be denied a future when he could finally now look forward to a life free from the prophecy and the taint of Lord Voldemort. They had acted in good faith believing in Dumbledore and believing in Harry, if anyone should have died it should have been him. The rest had been following his lead. But he _had_ intended to die! He had gone into the forest knowing that his death meant another strike against the enemy, which for this reason meant it was not to be lamented. Yet, by allowing Voldemort to kill him wandless and defenceless, he was protecting them all. He couldn't cast a spell that was binding after that. No, surely if anyone was to blame, it was Tom Riddle and his Death Eaters who were inflicting so much hurt, death and suffering in the world which necessitated the Order's defence of all that is good and true. Casualties were sadly inevitable and they had accepted that. Or had they? The words of Mundungus Fletcher flashed through Harry's mind from the kitchen of Grimmauld Place: "no offence, mate, but I never volunteered to die for you!" Yet Mundungus Fletcher was a sneak-thief not to be trusted, whose courage was not the measure of the other members in the Order of the Phoenix. No, Harry was certain that the others would know the true costs of an eventual victory. Hadn't Sirius once assured him of just that? Besides, the deceased would be revered forever more, but it was the living who he had to think of now and make sure the sacrifice of the dead was not to be in vain. Young Teddy Lupin, his young godson who was only a few months old, was foremost in his mind now. Harry made a mental note to go visit Tonks's mother, Andromeda, and little Teddy at the earliest opportunity. The survivors had to band together and continue to fight and build for what the Order had striven. Their final resting place would be the foundation stone upon which we build. That is what Sirius would want him to do, and his parents would be proud to think that their only son was a part of the new world they had died fighting for. On that thought, Harry dived deep into the water allowing it to soak right through every pore and every sinew. It was so refreshing he felt as if he were being reborn, like a phoenix at the burning.

Twenty minutes later, Harry stood clean and dressed in the bathroom feeling positively regal. The robes someone had left beside his bed were new to him, but made him feel like a king who had just led his troops to a famous victory. His outer cloak was long and reached to the floor, adorned just like his pyjamas in crimson flecked with gold. His waistcoat felt like mokeskin, soft and fluffy. A crisply ironed shirt opened fashionably at the collar. In all this scarlet, he felt like a true son of Godric Gryffindor. With his ruffled long hair, it wouldn't be surprising if he made a few female heads turn and make Ginny quite jealous. Though she, of course, had nothing to worry about on that score. Tucking his watch carefully in his pocket – the time was now 0630 – and his wand up a sleeve, he took hold of his invisibility cloak and exited the bathroom. He vaguely wondered what had prompted this donation of robes and thought uneasily of publicity later in the day. Just as long as he didn't have to give them back, he really did quite like them. Moving slowly back to the common room, he noticed a few more people were awake now. The portraits were applauding him through the corridors hoping that he would look their way until at last he met the Fat Lady again.

"Phoenix," he muttered and she swung forward. A few beds were empty, but the majority were still soundly asleep. He tip-toed through the common room to the dormitory. He wanted to see Ron and Hermione as they woke up, but upon reaching the beds noticed they were not there. Brow furrowed, he decided to wait for them until they got back. It was quiet up here after all. Reaching for his bag he began to pack everything away, except for the Marauder's Map. He wanted to see who was in the castle and thought he would find Ron and Hermione too,

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good." The map of the school appeared with little black dots all over indicating its various occupants. The teachers were in their private quarters; the Weasleys were in a Gryffindor dorm room; and Ron and Hermione were in a bathroom. Hmm, Harry wondered, together? Grinning widely, he sat back on his bed to wait for them taking out his wand to practice a few spells. It was the first chance he had had to train with the repaired phoenix feather wand and happily found it was working as well as ever. He tried a few summoning charms, levitations and transfigurations too. The wand felt warm and comfortable in his hand, and Harry rather thought he felt the wand almost trilling at the instance of magic. He had just conjured some golden canaries out of thin air (like Hermione had done in their sixth year, except they were flying rather more randomly than in a circle) when his friends returned.

"Where the hell have you been?" Ron asked in mock concern.

"I might ask you two the same thing. Shared any bathrooms lately?" Harry replied slyly.

Both blushed, but rallied at once: "No, only the Chamber of Secrets. Anyway, we were very discreet and respected each other's privacy! Besides, how do you know about that?" Ron defended themselves.

"Marauder's map. Anyway, it's fine. I'm very happy for you! Anyway I'd rather see you two kissing than bickering!" Harry mentioned with the hint of a wink.

"Oi! Cheeky!" Ron replied, half-amused.

"I was up on the seventh floor having a long soak…ooh, what's that you're wearing? New robes too?"

"Yes, someone left them out for us. You too, I see. Very nice!" crooned Hermione, blushing slightly again as Ron raised his eyebrows but flicked a smile at the same time.

The three of them cut a dashing swathe in deep crimson and gold. There was a little more gold on Harry's robes, but the three of them looked like they were very much part of the same team. Hermione was draped elegantly in a long flowing dress robe with gold round the hem with a shawl that matched. Her hair was sleeked back but with a hint of frizz. She was quite eye-catching! Ron may have been Harry's red-haired and slightly taller brother. Each outfit was adorned with the Gryffindor and Hogwarts motif. Someone obviously wanted them to look good.

"Didn't see anyone leaving these. Wondered if it may have been the house-elves." Ron said.

"Yeah, I wondered that too." Harry replied.

One of the canaries Harry had conjured flew off through an open window.

"Been practising." Harry said, rather unnecessarily. "It's a bit early for breakfast at the moment, but I wanted to talk to you about what happens today. I reckon we won't be so lucky at shaking off the interest in us. So I thought we should go and see the new headmistress after breakfast. What do you think?"

"Fair enough," Ron concurred.

"I agree, Harry." Hermione said. "Are we still going to explain to the rest of the Order too if they want to know? I'm sure they're going to be besieged with questions as well and they may have a right to know the truth. It's safe to do it now."

"Okay, if you think it's for the best. I trust your judgement." Harry paid the compliment affectionately.

"Then what'll happen?" Harry continued. "I was thinking of staying a little longer here to help rebuild if they need me to and then of coming back to complete the seventh year. But I may need to ask permission first?"

"Really? We may do that too, mate!" Ron motioned, and Hermione nodded fervently. "Though, I think my mum and dad will be expecting us all at the Burrow for the summer and Hermione has to go and fetch her parents to bring them home. So another trip is on the cards if you're interested? You can bring Ginny too." Ron finished.

"Sounds like a plan then," Harry agreed. "But let's get through today first."

The three of them now hastened to pack their bags in preparation for leaving and checking that they had everything they remembered packing. Yet thinking of tying up loose ends nudged Harry's memory awake and he suddenly summoned, "Kreacher!"

The little elf appeared with a _crack_ as clean and aged as Harry had last seen him with the sparkling golden locket gleaming round his neck. Ron and Hermione turned around. Bowing low Kreacher began,

"Master called! It is an honour to serve such a master…vanquisher of dark wizards and defender of house-elves!" He bowed low again.

"Blimey, he's changed his tune!" Ron muttered incredulously.

"Yes, thank-you for coming Kreacher. You look well, are you?"

"Oh yes, Kreacher is very happy now. Thank-you for asking. You are most gracious!"

"You made it to Hogwarts then. We left you at Grimmauld Place. What happened after we left?"

Kreacher's features darkened. "Kreacher is sorry he left, master. But nasty men got in. Vicious men. They forced their way in to the house of my masters and turned it upside down looking for I don't know what. Kreacher did his best to protect the house setting off the defences, but they nearly caught me and I knew I had to disappear. So Kreacher came here where he knew the other house-elves would keep him safe. Kreacher hopes master is not angry."

"Not at all, Kreacher. You did well, very well. We worried about you when you'd see we hadn't returned." Harry replied. "You mentioned 'defences' in the house. What defences are they?"

"Just defences for the house for people my masters don't want to be there. The Order people set up some and the rest had been there a long time. Things like disappearing stairs, the taps running blood, and the portraits screeching abuse. But they still soiled the noble house of Black. In the end, all but two remained."

"Why?" Harry queried, puzzled.

"Couldn't stand the traps and noise, but Kreacher thinks the Dark Lord wanted someone stationed there in case you returned."

"Okay, we're glad you got out though. I wanted to ask you something, Kreacher, and you can be as honest as you like. I can now offer you a number of options, even (if you wish it) freedom!" The tiny elf flinched and moaned at that.

"Don't worry," Harry continued, "It's only one option. You can decide either to stay here at Hogwarts or to go back to Grimmauld Place or…" Harry looked tentatively at Ron, "come back to the Burrow with us. I'm sure Mrs. Weasley wouldn't mind the help of a house-elf. What do you think, Ron?"

"Can't hurt, can it?" Ron answered.

"Master is most generous, because house-elves aren't usually given choices. No they are not! But Kreacher thinks he wouldn't like freedom, Kreacher would feel ashamed!" Hermione looked startled at that. "But Kreacher would like to go home to Grimmauld Place and arrange the house to how master likes for when he returns, but wouldn't mind coming back to the school during term-time. Is master agreeing? Then I could follow master to Master Weasley's home to help his mother."

"Absolutely! That's settled then. You can go as soon as you like because we shall be staying at the school for a few days."

"Kreacher must first go back to the kitchens and finish the breakfast and he will go back to the noble house of Black this afternoon if master agrees?"

"He does," Harry replied with finality. "Thank-you very much, Kreacher, make the house habitable for us, won't you? Then we'll see you at the Burrow in a few days.

Then in a trice, bowing low to the three of them, Kreacher was gone with an audible _crack_.

"Great! Mum will be pleased!" Ron cried ecstatically.

"You know," Harry noted," I think I finally get SPEW!"

"Hey, it's not SPEW!" Hermione said heatedly but amused nonetheless. "At least the message is getting through!"

Ron and Harry's stomachs rumbled in hunger, and looking down at his watch told him the time was now half past eight.

"Time for breakfast, I think? Let's go down together." Harry suggested.

"Great, I'm famished!" Ron groaned.

"Nothing new there then!" Hermione replied and the two boys laughed.

It really was brilliant to be alive today, Harry thought ruefully. But as our heroes descended into the common room and out into the school, all of a sudden everybody had seemingly disappeared. There was neither a sight nor sound of anyone and Harry was sure that there were hundreds of people still in the castle. Where could everyone be? Ron and Hermione were as nonplussed as Harry by the emptiness of the school, but were still expecting breakfast to be served in the Great Hall. The Hogwarts house-elves were nicely predictable that way. They hadn't failed yet! Strolling happily along together, Hermione flanked on either side by Ron and Harry until the doors of the Great Hall were in sight. Now, they began to hear movement. Approaching carefully upon hearing muffled whispers, they were bowled over by an outpouring of applause and whooping. The hundreds present were delivering a standing ovation, including the Slytherins (if a little grumpily). The sight was all the more uproarious for its unexpectedness.

"Whoa!" Ron bellowed, bewildered.

"I know!" Harry replied, startled beyond belief.

The Weasleys were there as were Harry's old Quidditch team; and Hagrid; all the teachers; Grawp peered in through the windows; Madam Rosmerta; Filch and Mrs. Norris; Aberforth, innkeeper of the Hog's Head; the house ghosts; Kingsley Shacklebolt and all the Order including Dedalus Diggle and Hestia Jones…and countless others they merely knew by sight. They had clearly been planning this greeting. Some people stood on their chairs as they pulled and jostled the three of them up to the top table, but Harry just wanted to take a seat with his fellow Gryffindors.

"Speech!" A couple of people hollered.

Stunned by this expectation, Professor McGonagall stood up and appealed for a modicum of quiet. After calling a rambunctious round of three cheers, the audience settled themselves into chairs at the head of Gryffindor table, the headmistress began:

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen! Well done for that hearty reception for our conquering heroes. Now apologies for springing this upon you, but I wonder if Mr. Potter would oblige us with just a few words before we start eating." She looked uncertainly towards him to say, "Harry…"

"Er…sure! A few words you say." A mischievous grin spread across his face. "Nitwit. Blubber. Oddment. Tweak" There were a few laughs at that. "Just a little joke for those of us who knew Professor Dumbledore. I miss him; I think we all miss him as we remember all the heroes who fell in the recent battle. We'll remember them forever more and revere the sacrifice that enabled our victory because without them, and you, we would never have won! So I'd just like to say 'thank-you!' with all sincerity from the bottom of my heart. Give yourselves a HUGE pat on the back and bon appetit!"

Enthusiastic applause erupted again before it ceased abruptly when the food appeared. Everybody ate ravenously, but before Harry could do so, he felt he needed a private word with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. They were sitting together, barely eating, and looking most morose. George hardly looked much better. Harry wondered if they had been able to stop crying since Fred…So, he got up from his seat moving with great effort to where his surrogate parents were sitting. He wasn't exactly sure what he was going to say or whether it would help, but he knew he was going to have to broach the subject sooner or later. This was the first conversation he was going to have with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley since Fred had passed away. It was a grim task. He crouched down low between them and placed a consoling hand upon their backs. They turned round to look at him.

"Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, I just wanted to say how sorry I am about Fred. His loss is simply devastating, and it will be felt for a long time to come. I don't think any of us will ever truly come to terms with it. Some of the laughter in the world has died with him. There's nothing I can really do or say to make it any better for you, but I wish there was. I _really_ wish there was!" Harry's placid façade cracked at last and his eyes leaked tears. Then Mrs. Weasley spoke first. Smiling weakly, she placed a hand on his face,

"You're a good boy! Thank you for those kind words. They mean a lot coming from you, particularly after what you have done. Come here…" They embraced warmly. Harry and Mr. Weasley shook hands vigorously. After a couple of minutes they parted without another word. The two of them seemed mollified a bit by Harry's words of comfort; at least they were able to have a bit of food now.

The rest of the breakfast passed in animated discussion about the fighting, the events since and what they were all going to do now. Harry couldn't help noticing that the former members of Dumbledore's Army were wearing their galleons proudly like medals and gained a sparkling smile out of Ron and Hermione when he mentioned it.

"Well, they're bound to be rightly proud now after what they have done! Those lessons paid off. I wouldn't be surprised if the group becomes quite famous," Hermione interjected.

Yet it was liberating to finally be in a position to make plans and look forward instead of pondering over how long you would have left. Harry and his classmates were finding the spoils of victory ever more rewarding.


End file.
